Her Highland Destiny

by Leanne Burroughs

  Impossible Love…

  When the priest asked for Catherine’s voice of consent, her eyes slipped sideways to appraise the angry man beside her. His stony silence seemed as eloquent as any bard’s tale. He wanted nothing to do with her.

  Her voice cracking, she barely whispered the words that would forever alter the course of her life. "I will."

  The man beside her stood rigid as she gave her response. He exhaled loudly and said through clenched teeth, "Aye, I will."

  The priest completed the holy message despite the palpable tension, then moved inside the chapel to offer communion and bless the marriage.

  Catherine couldn’t believe the priest’s audacity when at ceremony’s end he smiled at Duncan and said, "You may give your bride the kiss of peace."

  Duncan eyed the priest as if he’d lost his mind, then turned for the first time to face his lady wife.

  Trying to keep his expression unreadable, his gaze traversed the length of her body. Seal this unwanted union with a kiss to show the two families joined together with no ill feelings? He’d not do it. All he’d had to do was tell the priest he protested. The ceremony would have gone no further. He couldn’t do it. His clan needed him. Before he left home he’d decided not to stay with her after the wedding, wanting nothing to do with a woman his father selected. He planned to leave as soon as he took her to his home. He wouldn’t change his mind now.

  He stood resolute—and unable to breathe—for he stared at one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen.

  Praise for Highland Wishes –

  The first book in the Scottish War for

  Independence Saga!

  Highland Wishes is every reader's dream of the perfect story! Author Leanne Burroughs has penned a majestic tale filled with romance, history and adventure.

  This reviewer found that this book was a wonderful story set in a time when tension was high between England and Scotland. Burroughs writes a well-crafted story, with multidimensional characters and exquisite backdrops of Scotland. The storyline is a fast-paced tale with much detail to specific areas of history. The reader can feel this author’s love for Scotland and its many wonderful heroes.

  ~ Joyce Handzo, In the Library Reviews

  ~ * ~

  This is one book that cannot be put down once you begin. From cover to cover, you are drawn into the story. Through the laughter and the tears, you will finish this book wishing it would not end. Leanne Burroughs has truly written a wonderful Scottish historical and the research that must have gone into this book is just wonderful. I would recommend this book to anyone who loves to read Historical romance. If I were going to compare this author and book to anyone, it would have to be Julie Garwood and her Scottish historical romances.

  ~ Tangela William, The Romance Readers Connection

  ~ * ~

  The reader will laugh and cry as you read this wonderful story. The reader feels all the pain, torment and disillusionment felt by both main characters, but also the joy and love they felt. In Highland Wishes, Ms. Burroughs has crafted a well-researched story that gives a glimpse into Scotland during a time when there was upheaval and war for independence. This reviewer is anxiously awaiting her next novel in this series and commends her for a wonderful job done.

  ~ Dawn Roberto, Love Romances

  ~ * ~

  For a really good Scottish story with secrets, love, insecurities, evil, battles, and laughter, Highland Wishes fills the bill. Kudos to Ms. Burroughs for a true to form read that kept me entertained and wanting more.

  ~ Catherine McHenry, Romance Reviews Today

  ~ * ~

  Wonderful Medieval Debut Novel – Highland Wishes is a first time Historical Romance by a new writer Leanne Burroughs. What hits the reader immediately is her true love for the romance of the period. As a Scot and someone who has dealt with the history of the country a big chunk of my life, it takes a lot to impress me. Burroughs does. First off she knows who Andrew de Moray is - big points for that, lass! Burroughs has written a wonderful Scottish Medieval full of heart and adventure.

  ~Deborah MacGillivray, Author

  Highland Wishes is now also available in a Christian version –

  Highland Miracle

  Her Highland Destiny

  (Christian Version of the Award Winning Book –

  Her Highland Rogue)

  Leanne Burroughs

  ~~~

  Published by Highland Press Publishing at Smashwords

  Her Highland Destiny

  Copyright ©2013 Leanne Burroughs

  Cover Copyright ©2013 Amber Wentworth

  Produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information, please contact:

  Highland Press Publishing,

  PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9895262-9-6

  Highland Press Publishing

  http://highlandpress.org

  A Thistle Book

  Dedication

  To my husband, Tom,

  who supports my dreams

  and takes me to distant countries

  to do my endless research and fulfill those many dreams.

  I love you!

  Her Highland Destiny

  Scotland, 1304

  Chapter One

  Duncan MacThomas braced for the worst. He’d not seen that look on his father’s face since the day he’d been fostered. The day that changed his life forever.

  His father confronted the issue directly, speaking as if knowing he crossed the sword’s edge of Duncan’s temper. “Recently, I had correspondence with a wealthy man in London, Lord Nigel Gillingham. The two o’ us, at King Edward’s bidding, drafted a wedding contract.”

  Duncan walked closer to his father, each step measured. “You intend to wed? Are you not a bit long in the tooth?”

  “Dinnae be daft, Duncan.” MacThomaidh locked eyes with his son. “It little suits ye. Ye are to wed Gillingham’s daughter within a fortnight.”

  “What?” Duncan slammed down his ale tankard. Missing the table, his knuckles hit the edge, the drink spilling on the floor. He rubbed his other hand over the skinned knuckles.

  “’Tis done. The match is made.” Determination crossed MacThomaidh’s weathered features. “We needs must arrive in London within a fortnight. We leave on the morrow.”

  “You are daft. I’ll not marry to please you.” Duncan’s voice rose. “You gave up the right to tell me what to do the day you abandoned me to the care of strangers.”

  “Fostering is the Highland way, son.”

  “But never seeing your child again is not!”

  Duncan whipped around and crossed the large room to the double doors in three long strides. He flung the garden doors open, sending dust motes swirling in the sun’s muted rays. As a child, before he’d been sent away, the garden’s beauty often calmed him. His mind roiling in black fury, this time he saw nothing. How dare his father—the man who’d sent him to foster with a clan that abused him—now presume to rule his life?

  “Ye shall do as I say. Ye defied me before and wed a woman no better
than a harlot. That will not happen again.”

  “Why can you not leave me alone? You did whilst I grew up.”

  “Ye are my son! Regardless o’ past mistakes—mine or yers—ye shall one day be Chief o’ Clan MacThomaidh.”

  Turning back to face his father, Duncan’s face twisted in a mixture of pain and anger. He opened his mouth to reply, but his father forestalled him. “‘Tis time ye produce a son and heir. Ye have obligations to yer clan. ‘Tis high time ye acknowledged them.”

  “I will not leave for London—or anywhere else—in the morn,” came Duncan’s low, angry growl. “The only place I shall go is Cray Hall.”

  Nothing had changed. His father always brought out the worst in him. “That is my home and naught you say will change my mind.” His words bitter, Duncan gave his father no quarter. “You actually believe I would agree to the machinations of an English king? The Hammer of the Scots? That you support him disgusts me.”

  Duncan braced his feet. The MacThomaidh’s grim expression sent a foreshadowing of doom stealing up his spine.

  “Sometimes we needs must make decisions we would rather not. Off fighting with yer cohorts, ye have been away these past years.”

  “Fighting the English king,” Duncan retorted, “for Scotland—for freedom. Now you expect me to accept a royal edict from Longshanks? Faugh!”

  “The contract has been signed, and according to their religious beliefs Lord Gillingham posted banns.”

  Duncan scoffed. “Why? The Bishop waits to hear if anyone objects? Well I object!”

  “I swore our clan’s fealty to the king. We prospered, but times have changed. This war against England dips heavily into our coffers. Whether ye believe it or nae, I am no traitor to Scotland.” His father’s angry voice cut into Duncan like a broadsword. “The way nobles switched sides before and after Stirling’s battle was a disgrace. Ye thought the war won, but ‘twas only the beginning. Since Scotland refuses to bow its knee to Longshanks, we battle still, and as Chief I must consider every clansman.” MacThomaidh exhaled loudly. “The dowry the woman brings to this union shall keep our people safe and fed many a year. Look around ye.” His arm swept in an arc to encompass the high ceilinged Great Hall. “The castle needs work. I might regret the necessity o’ this action, but the woman shall be an asset to our clan and shall be a good lady wife fer ye, breed ye fine sons. I dinnae choose lightly.”

  Duncan grunted, unable to find words to express his disgust.

  “Ye do remember yer kinsmen, do ye not?” his father continued. “Just because ye have not been around Glen Shee these past years dunnae mean ye wiped us from yer memory. Holding our honours cost dearly, with the Kirk there with hands out fer their tithe and Edward wanting his twelve percent. Ye defied me once afore. See where that got ye. Ye shall do it my way nonce. We leave on the morrow, Duncan, and I shall hear no more on the subject.”

  MacThomaidh turned and stormed from the room, the upcoming meal forgotten.

  “I bloody well will not!” Duncan yelled to his father’s retreating back. In three strides he reached the Great Hall’s massive oaken door, flung it open and crossed the yard. He snatched his horse’s reins from the groom, leapt onto the stallion’s back and galloped toward his home as though wolves nipped at his horse’s heels.

  The MacThomaidh opened his bedchamber door and walked inside. He shook his head, dismayed at the sight that greeted him. His wee granddaughter had pushed a stool to the wall and climbed atop it to stare out the window slits. He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around the three-year-olds waist as she stood on her toes to watch her father ride away. She tilted her head and gazed up at him. Tears pooled in her bright blue eyes and glistened on her lashes before one trickled down her right cheek. Her lower lip quivering, she turned in his embrace and threw her arms around his neck. “Grandda.”

  MacThomaidh closed his eyes and sighed. “Och, dinnae cry lassie. Grandda will make everything aright.” Why hadn’t he thought this through? Knowing full well Duncan would storm off, he should have addressed the issue at Cray Hall. It was his fault as much as his son’s that his granddaughter Meghan was unhappy.

  “Da did not come see me.” She hiccupped from her sobs. Her tear-filled eyes looked into his.

  He drew her closer to his chest, gently rubbing her back, the bones of her small body so frail under his large calloused hands. Merciful saints, what have I done? Never would I hurt this precious child apurpose. In some way he hoped loving Duncan’s child made up for the love he’d been unable to show his son.

  Bending, he kissed the top of her head. “Sweetling, yer da loves ye.” It disheartened him Duncan visited often, but only when certain his father wouldn’t be present. Often MacThomaidh left Castle Glenshee just to allow Duncan time to visit Meghan, though his stubborn son never realized it. Neither did Duncan witness how he hungered for a visit from his son himself.

  “Den why...?”

  “He left because he is upset with Grandda. He wanted to remain home to be close to ye, but we needs must take a trip on the morrow.” He bent to kiss her soft cheek.

  “Grandda, I want Da. I wuv him.” Her mouth scrunched up and tears flowed down her delicate cheeks.

  The light of his life, his granddaughter’s pain lanced through his heart. He wanted to take away her distress. Unfortunately, the one person who had the power to make her smile had just galloped away. He lifted her and carried her to her bedchamber, cradling her tenderly. “Grandda and Da needs must go away, Sweetling.”

  “Can I go wif ye?”

  Hope sprang to her eyes. When he shook his head, her shoulders slumped.

  “Not this time, my heart. Yer da and I have something important we must do, but I shall return anon.”

  Meghan appeared crestfallen. “Will Da come back?”

  MacThomaidh assured her with a hug, “Naught could keep him away from ye. The servants shall take good care o’ ye whilst I am gone.” He smiled and leaned forward, touching her forehead with his. “Ye always get whatever ye want from them when I am not here.” He gazed into her face, hoping for a smile. None came.

  He found her rag doll and placed it beside her, knowing she never slept without it. Her aunt had given it to her and Meghan adored it. After a time, she fell asleep as he rocked her, her arms wrapped around her doll. He laid her gently on her small bed and covered her with soft white lamb’s fur.

  He walked slowly to the narrow window and stared out. Och, why dinnae I share such moments with Duncan? So many years wasted. Faugh! I let pride get in the way o’ showing my love. Whyever was I daft enough to consider his illness a poor reflection on my manhood? Foolish pride. Mayhap ‘tis impossible to establish any bond again. His hands tightened into fists. Time is running out. Regardless, having a stubborn streak as long as Loch Ness, he wouldn’t reveal his heart to his son. Once again, foolish pride.

  Certain of one thing, his granddaughter was a blessing from God, he’d not let anything—or anyone—hurt her the way he’d hurt his son.

  ~ * ~

  Duncan galloped away from his family castle, but soon slowed his horse to a trot. He reined in near a copse of trees and stared across his lands, thoughts swirling through his mind. By the saints, what did I do? I stormed away without seeing Meghan. Never have I been to castle and not visited her.

  He ran his hand behind his neck in effort to massage away tension. How could I do that? Am I a horrible father like MacThomaidh was to me? Turning his face to the heavens, he promised, Lord, I vow I shall make this up to Meghan. Thank You for the precious gift You gave me in her. I vow I love her more than my own life.

  His maither—God rest her soul—had instilled the Christian faith in him. Too often he feared he neglected that faith, even though he knew God was always with him. Had been with him his entire life. Through all the battles he and his men had fought. Duncan pulled a face. He still hadn’t built the small chapel she’d so wanted him to build at his home. He really would have to remedy that someday.

>   He sighed. Why think of his maither now? Because she’d instilled in him all that was good and true. Would want him to honor those things now. Just as the Drummond would. The Drummond would turn over in his grave if he thought a ‘son’ of his was even considering running from his duty.

  Duncan stared out over MacThomas land. Good land. The clan prospered despite constant warfare with the English. Blessed with rich soil for crops and cattle to keep everyone fed. The only problem was their bloody neighbors, the Farquharsons, reiving cattle and trying to claim MacThomaidh land. Scotland’s struggle against Longshanks caused hardships on many clans—not just in coin, but in number of warriors lost in battle—and the fight wasn’t over. Every summer saw Longshanks once more above the Tweed River vowing to suppress the Scottish rebellion once and for all.

  Castle Glenshee’s pristine beauty had dimmed, needing coin to restore its splendor. He’d seen signs of change, but hadn’t wanted to face them. Now he must.

  He closed his eyes in resignation. Och, why did MacThomaidh drag our clansmen into the discussion? Although unpleasant, Duncan forced himself to admit his father was right. But at what cost to himself?

  Alex, Angus, and Dohmnall rode out to meet him, bringing a smile to his face. He greeted them, “Too impatient to wait until my return? Well, I shall not keep you in suspense.” He related the details as they maintained a slow pace home.

  “As much as I will hate the outcome, I cannot walk away from my duty. For The MacThomaidh to mention the clan’s well-being means he worries about its future. Things must be worse than I imagined. If only my future to consider, I would fetch Meghan and keep riding, no qualms about stopping. But I owe it to everyone to support you—even in a manner I abhor.”